Stuck on Pleasure Island
by Yarho
Summary: The Allies and the Axis are stuck on a deserted island. The mishaps, happenstance, and foolishness start when America tries to distract England him from his duties. How will Arthur handle this sneak attack? Will they ever leave this island? USUK
1. Sneak Attack

**DISCLAIMER:** Axis Powers Hetalia and it's characters do not belong to me.

**Authors Note: **Ha ha, this is honestly the first real piece of fanfiction I have probably ever written. An' definitely the first piece of shonen-ai fanfiction I've ever written. Hetalia is just so full of adorable couplings I can't help myself. So I am likely gonna be writing a lot for this series orz;;;

This particular fic did a complete 360 from what I planned to write. It took on a life of it's own as I was writing really and probably for the better. This just means I'll have to write it another time XD;; This takes place when the Axis an' Allies are stuck on the same island (more akin to what happened in the Anime rather than the Manga)

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Story: Stuck on Pleasure Island

Setting: An island

Coupling: America x England

Rating: T (for suggestive scenes and some use of strong language)

Word Count: 2,083 +/-

Summary: Arthur is stuck on surveillance duty when a rather playful Alfred comes along to distract him from his duties.

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Beaded sweat poured down the face of a particular less than enthusiastic Brit. He absently dabbed his damp forehead with a chaste-white napkin groaning loudly. He had been watching the others –Germany, Italy and Japan- for going on to two hours now. It was his turn on stake out duty and aside from wandering the shoreline and their general ass-fuckery, there was absolutely nothing interesting going on with the Axis Powers. For some reason unbeknownst to him, both the allies and the axis had managed to get shipwrecked on the same deserted island in the middle of God-knows-where. The absurdity of the whole situation made him fervently wish that he were back at his house nestled in his armchair enjoying his afternoon tea.

It is not that he disliked being on a tropical island; it was just being stuck on an island to spy on the Axis (clearly because of his astounding covert expertise) was not quite what he had in mind for a tropical vacation. Watching the three prance about carelessly was starting to drive Arthur up the wall. They weren't yet aware of the Allies presence on the island so a sneak attack was still possible. As his general irritation had yet to plateau, a sneak attack was the only thing he looked forward to being stuck on this damned island.

He peered reluctantly through his binoculars from his make-shift lookout just as the group of bumbling idiots disappeared behind a huge congregation of palm trees and vegetation cutting off his view. Normally he would be expected to follow but it was way too hot. "Bloody gits can't stay put! I'm not moving from this spot," Arthur muttered to himself. Besides, the likeliness the group of misshapen men would happen upon on their camp was slim to none. Setting aside his binoculars he leaned back against the tree whose shade he had concealed himself in sighing. He fanned himself with the collar of his shirt. Even though he was in the shade, Arthur was not at all used to this kind of sweltering heat. Trying to find some relief he unbuttoned the first few notches from his shirt.

His fingers stopped short when he heard an appreciative whistling sound from the bushes. "Hey, don't stop on my account!" a chuckle came from the came from the same direction. Arthur's blood boiled, he knew exactly whose voice that belonged to. He stormed towards the general direction of the sound pushing back the shrubbery to find a grinning America starring up at him, "Hello Iggy!".

"How long have you been there?!" the other nation demanded ignoring the greeting.

"A while, I thought it would be fun to see how long I could hide out here before you noticed me".

The pompous face smiling up at Arthur filled him with the unexplainable urge to sucker punch the younger and knock out a few of those pearly whites. He just barely suppressed the urge by turning away and clenching his teeth muttering something about smashing in Alfred's face if it hadn't been so hot. "Ahh~ now my body is all sore from hiding out like that," Alfred groaned. Arthur could hear rustling behind him as the other pushed himself off the ground. "It's your own fault, playing international spy at your age isn't cute Ameri—" Arthur began turning himself to face the other. His words stopped short and his train of thought dissolved at the sight before him. Alfred had pulled himself out of his hiding spot stretching out his body. Only as he did this did Arthur realize the younger was only wearing his bomber jacket over his very bare sweat-glistened chest.

The Brit's mouth hung open in as he quickly sputtered, "A-A-A-Alfred! Where's your shirt?!".

"Hmm?" the other raised a brow, his right hand on his shoulder as he stretched his left arm back, "I took it off and left it at the camp".

Arthur noted that Alfred's abs flexed as he did so. He hadn't realized how built the younger was. The thoughts swirling in his head were beginning making it hard for him to tear his eyes away much less stop the blush rising to his cheeks. He settled on staring at the ground as he continued to reprimand his former colony. "N-No! I mean why aren't you wearing a shirt!".

Alfred frowned scratching the back of his head, "Isn't it kind of obvious? It's way too hot out here with one on. I should be asking why you aren't shirtless".

"Because it's immodest" the flustered blond quickly retorted tearing his eyes from the ground to stare him down (trying with much difficulty not to allow his eyes to move further than the other's neck).

Alfred couldn't help but laugh heartily at his comrade's over-blown reaction. "Oh come on, you're over-reacting we are both guys. Here, let me help you out of that". He leaned over fastening his hands on the remaining buttons of the flustered nation's shirt. Arthur found himself more than flustered at how easily and expertly the buttons were undid by the usually fumbling idiot.

"L-let go you bloody pervert!" Arthur shouted in protest holding fast to his remaining buttons clamping his shirt shut.

"Stop being unreasonable and take it off!" Alfred persisted, his trademark stubbornness kicking in as he tried to force his fingers past the other's obstructing hands.

"No chance in hell" Arthur growled permitting no access. After all, he could be just as stubborn as Alfred when he wanted to.

The Brit tried twisting his body a little to wriggle out of Alfred's grip, but America did not relent as he held on tightly still trying to force the fabric apart. At this point Alfred was leaning so close that the flustered Brit could feel his warm breath fan over him. Arthur didn't know how much more of this he could take, the other was getting too close. It was getting too hot.

"Alfred!"

"Arthur!"

"Bloody _he_—**let go**!"

"No!"

"You're pulling too hard!"

"Then you let go!"

"NO!"

Placing both hands on Alfred's chest Arthur forcibly shove him away. The force of the push was strong enough to cause the to stumble and lose his balance. His hand shot out to instinctively grab onto whatever was nearby to steady himself which just so happened the fabric of a fleeing –or at least he was trying to- Arthur's shirt. The two fell over with a loud _KER-THUMP_ followed by a tearing noise.

Arthur's mind was flooded with so many things at once as he tried to process the situation he had just literally stumbled into. The first thought was anger; for the tearing sound meant the insufferable American had ruined his only shirt. Next was embarrassment from having been so, so… _manhandled_. But the most distracting thing of all must've been the burning contact of the younger's bare chest against his own and the warm pressure pressed against his lips.

Shell-shocked blue met startled green when the blonds had at last realized the compromising position they were both in. Lips still momentarily locked, the two could feel the urgent thumping of the others heartbeat against their own. The full force of the heat emanating from Alfred's chest and the too-close-for-comfort contact was starting to make the Brit light headed, his flushed red face didn't help much either.

Arthur was the first to move, hastily breaking the accidental kiss. Pushing himself up with his forearms he opened his mouth to stutter an apology; or at least he tried to when a hand shot out weaving itself through his dark blond hair pulling him back in. Alfred's lips descended on him in the next instant kissing Arthur hungrily. Though caught off guard, Arthur soon found himself reciprocating the action as his eyes half-lidded, moaning while gradually kissing the other with more urgency. The American's tongue poked and probed at the others lips before the Brit permitted him access. They explored each others mouths both trying to elicit small pleasure sounds from one another. Arthur couldn't help but notice that Alfred's mouth tasted of one of his beloved Big Macs (that was Alfred for you, stuck on a desert island and still able to fill his fast food fix).

Alfred shifted beneath him and in the next moment had somehow placed himself on top of a very flustered Arthur pinning his arms above his head with one hand. Arthur shivered tentatively as he felt the other hand smooth over his chest teasing him with butterfly touches before he felt them move lower.

"Al don't, not outside…" Arthur murmured against his partner's lips tensing under his touch.

"I can't help myself, you're so adorable Arthur," Alfred whispered his mouth reluctantly releasing the blushing man's lips. He kissed softly down to the Brit's slender neck before biting down on the soft white flesh there. Arthur cried out clutching fistfuls of the other's downy golden blond locks. Alfred moved to whisper something in his ear when the two flinched in surprise at rustling sounds.

"Ve~ I heard something weird over here Germany!" a voice called out sounding not too far away.

The two froze, Arthur's hands still knit in the younger's now messy hair who had his hand clasped around the elder's waistband. Arthur's face contorted in panic, he couldn't be found like _THIS_, half-dressed in such a position-- especially not by the enemy.

The clumsy footsteps only got louder and louder as they approached the direction of the frantic blonds. He could already make out the voices of Ludwig and Kiku mumbling to one another. If they did not move **NOW** they would be found out. Before Arthur could react, Alfred grabbed him into a bear hug before swiftly rolling both of them into the bushes.

Just then the Axis Powers descended upon the make-shift lookout with Veneziano leading the way. "I could have sworn I heard people here.." he mused in dismay scanning the immediate area stepping over a (occupied) bush. A disgruntled German folded his arms over his chest as steel-blue eyes peered from beneath the brim of his hat scrutinizing ground . "It seems like someone was here not to long ago," he noted in a deep voice (Arthur's heart nearly stopped at this point, they would surely find them). The pale Asian man behind him nodded in agreement, "maybe we should keep searching, there is no point staying here". The group efficiently moved out at Ludwig's command in search of island inhabitants.

Arthur didn't dare move—or rather he couldn't with the American man's large body pinning him painfully against a rock _[A/N: talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place *winkwink*]_. "Are they gone?" he whispered dryly. He felt the other shrug and say "Don't move, I'll check". Alfred poked his head out warily listening and watching for the enemies. "They are gone, all clear". At that Arthur nearly exploded out of the bushes sending Alfred tumbling painfully onto the ground. "Owww what was that for Arthur?" Alfred demanded rubbing his now bruised chin. Alfred regretted the question as soon as it left his mouth for Arthur was giving him the deadliest look he had ever seen.

"What was it for you ask…?" he repeated in an eerie measured tone his pitch wavering. "First you spy on me, next you try to strip me down, you rip my only shirt, nearly _**molest me**_, alert the enemy to my general location, shove me into a bush, and practically squish me to death and you still have the audacity to ask me what _that_ _**was**_ _**FOR**_?!". Alfred backed away slowly, it was a long time since he saw the elder this infuriated, "W-w-woah Arthur hold on! I didn't mean any harm. Besides some of that was your fault". Arthur chuckled hollowly his brows knitting together casting a shadow over his face, "My fault he says..?" and continued walking slowly closer and closer to the other. Alfred gulped feeling fear prickle up his spine, "No! Er, no hah-- it was all my fault really you're right. But I was just kidding," he laughed still backing away. He felt his back press against a tree and he braced himself against it. There was nowhere to run, no escape as the Brit quickly closed in. Arthur raised his hand and Alfred shut his eyes and shrunk back anticipating a hit. Much to his surprise the hand cupped his chin delicately and lips pressed against his own.

When the moment passed Arthur pulled away. "Stupid git," he said simply a hint of affection softening the insult as he walked away leaving a blushing Alfred leaning weakly against the tree for support. That had to be the best sneak attack the American had ever been on the receiving end of.

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**Authors Note:** Can you believe this was originally going to be a fic about a staring contest? Oh laud how my imagination hijacked the original idea. Anyways, that was the first ever kissing scene I've ever written. Was it good, bad, lacking in some way? Please let me know so I can improve any future kissing scene~. Also, I'm not sure whether to continue this fic or not. Let me know by leaving a review pretty please, it will be considered complete until YOU say so. If I do continue the story it won't be until I get back from the Philippines I'm boarding the plan Friday an' won't be back till August. I hope you readers enjoyed my fic, it was a pleasure to write :3

**EDIT:** I fixed a weird paragraph that was there as well as so awkward sentences. I've decided to continue this. But the update will be a while in coming.


	2. When attacked by bizzare nudists

A rather dishevelled Arthur headed- or rather floated- back to the camp in a mood somewhere between elation and exhaustion. Being around his rowdy ex-colony always seemed to tucker him out, yet after every one of their encounters there was always that unexplainable tingling feeling of ecstasy that he would never admit. An absent smile played on his lips as he recalled the state he left the American in at the stakeout area (it was Alfred's turn for surveillance now anyways). The younger country never saw it coming, and frankly neither did Arthur. It was highly probable that America's spontaneity was rubbing off on him, it was so easy to get swept up by that air-heads endless reserves of energy.

He would've gone about his business in this blissful mood for the remainder of the day if not for two arms snaking around his waist from behind. The offending arms drew him close, and England felt whiskers brush his cheek as the person rested their chin on his shoulder. "You are back amour~ I've missed you so," the mystery attacker purred into his ear. The hair at the back of England's neck raised in irritation as he elbowed the French man in the gut. He felt the mans grip go limp as he released a pained groan clutching his own stomach. "Auguhh the pain," the fairer blond whimpered, his usual airy tone turned raunchy,.

"You are lucky I'm in a good mood wine bastard, otherwise I wouldn't have let you go so easy" Arthur retorted his brow furrowing though his lips were still upturned in smirk watching Francis double over in pain. "Oh I take it your good mood has something to do with America non?" the Frenchman observed straightening himself seeming to have recovered nicely from the blow (he was used to it by now). Arthur felt his face practically burn up on command, "what makes you say that?!" he blurted his tone sounding more defensive than he intended. Francis stroked his chin shrugging casually smiling his usual coy smile "Arthur, Arthur, am I not the nation of love? I am not new to these matters of amour". Arthur frowned, "Bollocks!. There is no feeling of _amour_ between me and that air headed brat". "Hmm" Francis shook his head, his blond wispy curls bobbing along with the movement, "the evidence says otherwise". The flashy Frenchman indicated pointedly towards Arthur's attire: messy dark blond hair decorated with leaves, his dress shirt scuffed with dirt, torn in the front missing a few buttons and hanging off an exposed shoulder baring to the world a fresh swollen hickey at the base of his neck. Arthur blushed a new shade of red trying feverishly to fix himself and cover the evidence of Americas "sneak attack". Francis made an amused sound patting his companion amiably on the back, "you will have some trouble. That America is a bit of a rascal, but I'm guessing the action you're getting in worth it, non?".

"Shut the fuck up you frog!" the frazzled blond all but shouted, his attempts to gather himself to look less dishevelled failing miserably. Francis just chuckled backing away slightly; when Arthur got embarrassed he knew from experience it was better to watch the man stumble over himself than receiving a punch below the belt. The other blond busily patted his pockets searching for something, Francis raised a brow, "What are you doing?". "My needle and thread set… I need it to mend my shirt but it's gone!" Arthur dismayed searching all the more frantically through his pockets. He didn't want to be left on the island shirtless with the perverted frenchman and hyper american afterall.

"You still intend to wear that tattered thing?" France said almost appalled. "Of course, I can't be gallivanting around shirtless, especially with you around" Arthur retorted bluntly. The flashy dressed man made a mock expression of pain clutching his heart, "Oh England, you wound me". Arthur rolled his eyes and turned to leave when Francis added, "just when I was about to loan you my jacket because I felt _so_ bad for you. I guess you don't want it".

Spinning quickly on his heel Arthur faced the curly blond, "I want it!" he shouted in protest. In the next moment there was a blur of colour and the bewildered nation found himself with an armful of clothing: the Frenchman's overcoat, even the shirt he must have been wearing under it, along with a pair of pants and… underwear…? England didn't dare look up when he hurled the clothes back at what he knew would be a very naked Frenchman who was just about ready to charge at him.

"W-w-what are you doing?!" he shrieked.

"I'm giving you a bonus~ it's much too hot with all these clothes on anyways. Besides, who doesn't want to see my glorious nude body?" Francis posed in such a way that Arthur had a full view of his whole package.

The Englishman flushed shielding his eyes from the sight, "You can keep your jacket and your bonus, just **stay away from me!**".

"You're so cold Arthur~ Come over here and let big brother France take care of you" he leered gravitating closer to the sputtering Englishman.

"_**I-I-I-I said stay away!**_" Arthur shouted even louder finding himself unwittingly close to being cornered by the bizarre nudist. A shadow cast over the looming man's features as he inched closer and closer. Arthur all but held his breath wishing he could be swooped out of this situation by a valiant _hero_.

There was a resounding hollow _CLANG_-ing sound that filled the air as Francis dropped unceremoniously to the floor.

"It's not safe to be alone with Francis, you of all people should know that by now aru".

England gawked upwards with wide grateful eyes at the new arrival before him. Wang Yao stood over the now incapacitated Francis inspecting the new profile-shaped dent in his beloved Wok muttering something in his native tongue paying no heed to the unconscious man below him. They were literally right outside their camp, the Asian man must've heard the ruckus they were causing and came to check it out. Arthur was quick to drape his tattered shirt over his shoulders to conceal the obtrusive hickey from view as he thanked his unlikely rescuer.

His emerald eyes gravitated to a figure standing behind the small Asian man. He had not noticed him earlier but he must've arrived at the same time as Yao. The man had hair so blond it was white, and he wore a coat over his large person along with an iconic snow-white scarf. His lips were upturned slightly in amusement as his amethyst eyes winked and smouldered devilishly observing the piece of clothing around the Brit's neck knowingly.

"Sure is hot out, wouldn't you agree England?".

Arthur shivered involuntarily and gulped, '_Oh shit, Russia knows_'. He simply nodded, it was safer to stay quite around the large nation; you could never tell what was running through that man's head.

"It's not a problem aru, The bastard did the same to me earlier but I didn't get my chance for revenge. _Aiyah_, the man never learns," China replied finally, shaking his head finally concealing the Wok expertly on his person. He raised his head again to inspect Francis's latest victim, "Looks like we got here too late, your shirt is all torn aru".

The dusty blond opened his mouth to correct his fellow ally before mentally stopping himself. '_He is providing a legitimate excuse for your situation Arthur. Just play along!_'. "I've had worst run-ins," he mentioned without pause. He didn't miss Russia's grin widen in the background as if to say, '_you're lying, it wasn't France this time_'. The Chinese man nodded in understanding.

"Where is America England? I vaguely remember him leaving shortly after you started your shift on look-out," Ivan questioned in his deceptively innocent tone. How he managed to sound so harmless yet have his words drip with such acidity all at once was a mystery.

'_He definitely knows!_' Arthur's mind sputtered in alarm.

"I just saw him only when he arrived for his shift. I didn't see him any other time during my watch, knowing the git he probably got lost for a few hours in search of a hamburger tree or something" he stated in his usual fashion adding exasperated emphasis where appropriate. He was sure his lie was undetectable, China's amused smirk and nod in agreement proved that much. Ivan on the other hand saw straight through it.

"Is that so." Ivan mentioned simply not calling him out on his outright fib settling to mutter a just above a whisper "_Kolkolkolkolkol_" into his scarf.

In favour of looking anywhere besides the scary almost-albino, the English gentleman averted his eyes to the ground. He only just recalled the fallen country when he saw him still sprawled unattractively where he fell. The emerald eyed man wanted to snatch up his jacket and keep it to clothe himself. Instead he picked up the jacket and draped it over his ally's nude body. He'd rather be shirtless any day than have to see _THAT_ for an extended period of time.

The three remaining conscious men gravitated back to their campsite. The spot they chose for it was rather ingenious in positioning: a small meadow-like area surrounded by thick vegetation on all sides. To spot the campground was impossible unless one physically pushed back the vines and shrubbery concealing it. England sighed and looked up at the sunlight still filtering prettily through the canopy of leaves above. It was still only a little after high noon. He wanted very much to sit by and watch the ocean waves with a cup of tea in hand. Alas, this was a deserted island, and tea wasn't exactly easy to come by.

He paced a few moments, alternating between teetering on the balls off his feet and whistling a tune from his pirate days. Fiddling with the shirt on his shoulders he despaired that he didn't have anything to mend it with. That was when he remembered that China was also quite good at fixing things. With determination, Arthur walked over towards the log he knew China would be sitting at.

"China," he spoke out tentatively. The Asian man looked up from whatever it was that he was doing eyeing the blond towering over him.

"What aru?".

He meekly held out a sleeve of his barely recognizable dress shirt towards him. "…Do you think it possible for you to mend this for me?".

Slipping the shirt off of the other countries' shoulders -and Arthur careful in replacing a hand nonchalantly over the swollen mark on his neck as this was done- China inspected it, running the fabric between his fingers nodding.

"I probably could, but I'm still mad about the *_Opium Wars_ aru. So I might add a few Shinatty-chan patches here and there--"

The shirt was snatched quickly out of Yao's hands. "That's quite alright! I shouldn't have troubled you" the Brit exclaimed quickly with a forced smile. China, he had observed, was in quite the revengeful mood today…

He turned with unease to Ivan who stood aside not too far away thankfully no longer Kolkoz-ing manically in plot. He noticed the man was still bundled up in multiple layers despite the tepid temperate. Arthur was almost too nervous to ask. He sucked in some air to inflate his chest with mock confidence before striding over. Surely the bigger nation won't mind loaning him one of his shirts. "Ivan.." the green eyes rested on the large man holding desperately to their weak determination.

Amethyst eyes stared back, "Yes?"

"You must be hot in all those layers. Do you think you could donate a shirt, I'll pay you back of course once we get back to civilization".

"Of course!" the Russian mused brightly looking to all the world an overdressed cherub in the tropical sun. England was about to thank the man when the Russian amended his agreement.

"But only once you become one with Russia"

The British Man didn't even bother to respond as he shuffled off to the farthest removed corner of the camp away from the two other nations. Shirtless it is then.

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Appendix

*_Opium Wars_- According to Wiki, British-held India was smuggling Opium into China (where it was illegal). This cause two wars between the two, China lost both. England even managed to forcibly make them sight two one-sided trade agreements to allow the trades. Oh England, you gentleman pirate you. XD

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**Author****'s Note: **Thanks for all the reviews! I have decided to continue this fic afterall. This took way too long to write. Geez. I love using France as comic relief! He is a great device for stories. Yeah, no USxUK fluff this chapter, that's because I was making Alfred and Arthur's relationship accelerate too fast. Tho' there was no romance in this chapter I think it came out funnier than the last one.

I tried to write some RussiaxChina in this but those two only do things when none is around so that totally screws that up D: The reason this took too long was cause I'm a perfectionist and school has just started back up. I will have the next chapter up pretty soon. Look forward to more USxUK fluff :D

Reviews keep me updating faster folks! Also, I need some suggestions for upcoming chapters because this was supposed to be a one-shot so there is no particular direction to this fic XD;; So help is appreciated 3


	3. How To Protect Your Virtue part 1

A man with dishevelled dusty blond hair bit back a sneeze as he gazed wistfully into the ocean holding his tattered shirt against him for warmth. He had slipped away from camp for some alone time and decided that it wouldn't hurt to sit at the secluded beach near the site and take in some fresh air. With the sun already setting and the horizon beginning to darken in the distance it cast a melancholy shadow across the island. Whether it was the fact that Arthur was unaccustomed to tropical places, or he was getting too old to remember (dammit he was not THAT old) but it seemed to slip his mind that come nightfall, tropical places turn uncharacteristically cold. That well-known fact coupled with his spur of the moment trip to the beach and inadequate clothing made Arthur regret coming there. Thus leading to the much too cool evening breeze flowing from the sea to receive an Artic-cold welcome from the aforementioned Brit.

Of course, the most logical solution to this predicament is to probably leave the scene in favour for the warm, inviting fire burning steadily back at camp. But he couldn't leave, _no_, it was best course of action for him to stay _right where he was_. He muttered this to himself and nodded resolutely confirming his decision despite the racket his teeth were making. His teeth gnashed together as a result of the cold, sending goose bumps snaking up his bare arms right through to his core. You see, as Arthur passed the time alone (three hours to be exact) he allowed his mind to wander-- a luxury that usually isn't afforded to him as he was a very busy nation afterall. His thoughts wandered to the incident earlier that day: the pure ecstasy coursing through his blood and the feel of golden hair and soft skin, albeit sweat slick, at his fingertips. Although he resisted he enjoyed the moment a little more than he should have. The skin across his cheeks flared up in recalling the epiphany he had only moments ago making Arthur frantically wish that he put up more of a fight.

An intense fluttering sensation filled his chest as he curled in on himself his flopping onto his side the harsh grainy sand brushing up against his bare shoulder doing nothing to distract him. '_Oh god. Oh dear GOD. How could I let Alfred do_ _THAT_?' Arthur beat himself up internally as his mind wandered back to the scene.

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'_It took a while for my mind to process what was going on after we fell. I realized that my shirt was probably in tatters, and the pressure on my lips-- it could have been anything. Like the side of his cheek, his nose, or a really warm, soft rock. But I knew logically (especially that last one, that just plain didn__'__t make any sense) none of those could be possible, especially with those two startled blue orbs staring up me in such close proximity. It wasn__'__t his cheek the my mouth was pressed up against, it was his __lips__. This was a kiss. When lips meet this was called a kiss__…__ A __**KISS**__. In the seconds it took me to process the overwhelming flood of information (and emotions) I became all too aware of my heartbeat in my ears and the equally frantic beating of Alfred__'__s chest beneath me. I felt heat engulf me with this knowledge. I knew my face was probably as red hot as my body when I propped myself up with my arms breaking the lip lock. I stared down at him, our gazes still fixed on each other, I tried opening my mouth to speak. In all honesty, I didn__'__t even know what I was going to say; whatever would__'__ve come out of my mouth if I were given the chance to speak would__'__ve probably been incoherent sputtering. However, I wasn__'__t even given the opportunity to think when I was yanked into another heated kiss-induced haze. My mind could barely keep up with what was going on. I didn__'__t even know that I wanted something like this from Alfred. Let alone that I would act this way in response to his ministrations. My mind blanked and I gave full control to my body until I felt Alfred shift, somehow topping me and pinning me painfully against the ground. In my state of psuedo-conciousness, I noticed him giving increasingly more attention to my lower half. Trying to redeem myself I moaned softly trying to get the man to snap out of whatever similar trance he was in, _

"_No, A-Alfred__…__ Not outside__"_

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'_NOT OUTSIDE?! What was I __**THINKING**__. I couldn__'__t say anything LESS misleading like. STOP IT or, get off me you bloody git?! No, I had to say not outside_' the Brit beat himself up internally making his mind halt it's flashback. Trying (_really_ trying) not to imagine what would've happened if the Axis didn't show up. Of course, that sentence uttered by Arthur, in the mind of a 19 year old hormone enraged teenager, sounded a lot more like: "_No Alfred! No here, but I would mind doing it back at camp, the bus over there or maybe even the kitchen counter back home__…__ 3_". Arthur never wanted to kick, scream, or burst in frustrated tears like a stereotypical female experiencing menstrual cramps as much as he did now.

When Alfred got back he would definitely want to take advantage of his lingering '_offer_' and commence with the display from earlier that day. He would, and _COULD_ do it too, Alfred had become quite strong over the years; and under the influence of his pint-sized teenage mind, or rather something _further down_, Arthur was afraid he wouldn't have the strength (or willpower really) to stop him. So Arthur didn't know quite what to do with himself. Which was a good way of explaining his current state. Angry, embarrassed, frazzled and miserable, all those _fun _emotions. America would be expecting something to happen tonight when they are left alone, and Arthur didn't know if he could handle that.

That is, if they were left alone together. Left alone.

Left alone…

Left alone!-- that's _**IT!**_ He'd just have to make sure there was always a third party around until someone found them on the damned island! As long as there was at least one other person there, the American wouldn't dare pull something. Arthur uncurled from his fetal position, sat upright and looked towards the sky. Judging from the position of the moon in the sky, it was about 8 or 9 o' clock pm. He figured his fellow nation would be off duty any minute now. All Arthur had to do was get back to camp and stick to his allies, the God-complex pale blond nation, bitter Asian and… _Francis _(Arthur cringed at the thought) for the sake of protecting his virtue.

With a conniving smile and new found resolve, (and desire to find somewhere warmer than the night time beach) overflowing with renewed energy, Arthur stood up turning eagerly on his heel in the direction of camp. He marched, pleased with himself towards the campsite when a towering figure popped out from the nearby bushes shouting a deep throated, "**BOO!**".

To the sudden appearance of the usually sugar-high American, Arthur, of course, reacted according. The proper action, in his mind, taking the form of: **a)** a high-pitched, undignified screech and **b)** _nearly _(nearly being the key word!) toppling backwards.

Alfred noticed his unsteadiness, reaching forward and taking a firm grasp of the older nation's arm. Steadying him at the elbow, pulling him closer to ensure the smaller man didn't fall over. "Whoaa, easy there old man, you can hurt yourself like that. Don't want you dislocating a hip or anything," the aggravating blond chuckled good naturedly.

Arthur's eyes flared, setting his mouth in a solid frown. "I would not have stumbled if you had not popped out of the bushes like that, what is WRONG with you America? The Axis probably heard me screaming--".

"Like a woman" Alfred pointed out helpfully.

"_**Bugger off!**_" the Brit hissed whispering sharply, "the point, is this is the second time your shenanigans are going to get us in trouble".

Alfred laughed carefree, "oh don't worry, I just checked and they should be on the other side of the island by now. There is no way they could've heard". Arthur grumbled. Almost apologetically, Alfred rubbed the back of his neck. "And I am sorry for scaring the shit out of you old man," he amended in mock apology to pacify the prickly Brit. "all better? Or do you need me to kiss it better?". The American pursed his lips and leaned forward still holding onto Arthur's arm. They stood at such a close proximity that the American only had inches to go before…

'_I knew it! He wants in my pants!_' Arthur's gasped his mind churning, '_we'll just see about __that_'.

In one fell swoop, he threw back his free arm, channelling all his frustration from the day, concentrating all those feelings into his fist. He swung mightily, knocking the younger squarely in the jaw moments before their lips could connect catching the young man completely off guard. "DAMN IT ALFRED. You are worse than that French pervert" Arthur admonished his face burning red in spite of himself.

America released the smaller man's arm when he received the sucker punch. He caressed his jaw carefully, eyes watering slightly. That was some punch. "What the hell England! It was just a _joke_" America snapped back his anger tinting his voice though the pain too the edge off it. England simply snarled back, shooting him his best **screw you** face before huffing past him and towards camp, the American sporting a sore jaw tagging along behind him.

As he went along, Arthur became very conscious of the lazy shuffling an dragging of feet behind him. It was painfully obvious who the sounds belonged to, and this was really starting to annoy him. "... Would you stop following me" Arthur grumbled after a few seconds of this. The American had been following him this whole time. There he was, just a mere pace behind the Englishman humming his national anthem absently seeming to have recovered quickly from the blow (He was a _hero _afterall, Arthur reminded himself. Not like that made much sense at all).

"I am not following you, I'm going the same way. You just happen to be walking in front of me," the other replied simply.

'_Bloody wanker…'_ Arthur thought distractedly, wanting very much not to be left alone with the man. He settled for quickening his pace, this way at least he could put a sound distance between himself and the bundle of raging hormones. As he did so, he could hear the other speed up as well, "Dammit Alfred, stop bloody copying me you insufferable buffoon!".

"I'm NOT. I just want to get there faster, I'm _hungry_," he whined, "why are you being so bitchy anyways. You pmsing or what?".

"I'm a man that isn't even biologically possible!" Arthur responded indignantly turning his whole body around to face Alfred, walking backwards now. He really didn't want Alfred walking behind him if he was trying to protect his virtue. "If you are _so_ hungry why don't you just pass me?".

"Well I thought it would be rude to just _pass_ you. I was trying to be a gentleman for once. Didn't you raise me to be a gentleman?" the taller blond retorted mockingly.

Arthur's brows descended over his eyes, shadowing his green eyes as he glared, "Now don't you dare use that against me you sodding git! You are **no** gentleman".

Alfred easily ignored the empty threat, laughing it off, an amused expression plastered on his face as he asked, "Why are you walking backwards?".

'_because, if I have my back facing you I'm afraid you will pounce me and steal my virtue_' Arthur's mind shouted. "it's a new exercise. Strengthens your sense of direction" Arthur lied quickly.

"Is that so?" Alfred responded, curious now as he turned his back to face Arthur.

Now it was the Brit's turn to ask, "…What in the world are you doing...?".

"Strengthening my sense of direction!" the American resounded proudly, "after all, a hero must be well rounded in everything".

As he said this Arthur found his eyes go lower stopping and unconsciously staring at the younger mans well rounded glutes, "...indeed" he murmured in agreement. When England snapped out of his trance he berated himself internally, '_United Kingdom of Britain and Northern Ireland, what are you thinking?!_' his conscience shouted as he forced his gaze upwards again to his former colony's broad shoulders just as America turned his head to face him, "This isn't hard at all! Almost as if it isn't training" he exclaimed innocently.

'_Bloody hell. Now __**I**__ feel like the pervert_,' England thought face coloring.

"What in the world are you two doing aru?".

The two stopped and turned to face a rather confused looking China. "Training!" America replied unabashed. That did not help clear the confusion on the Asian man's face. Instead of questioning it further (after all westerners always do strange things that don't make sense) the man just sounded a convincing, "of course, aru" before turning to Arthur. "Where have you been all this time? I was about to look for you. Russia was thinking that maybe the Axis got to you, aru." China inquired looking a bit disappointed that that wasn't actually the case as Arthur was standing right before him this very moment. "I just wanted to take in the scenery," Arthur replied good naturedly trying to ignore China's blatant disappointment. Sighing, the black haired nation waved them over, "Come on aru, Russia made dinner. I don't know what will happen if we keep him waiting too long".

---

**Authour****'s Note: **

*creeps out from behind her screen* He he. Hello folks ;;; FIRST OFF, I would like to apologize for the latelatelateLATE update. School has been busy, same with winter break. I just didn't have the time or strive to finish this. That and I have been working on 2 other fics rather sparsely as well ;;; That and I'm a biiittt OCD and perfectionist when it comes to my writing. I reread everything 3 times and fix awkward sentences here and there ALL the time. BUT I UPDATED NOW AND THAT IS WHAT MATTERS RIGHT?! *is pelted by shoes* Ouch, no, I'm sorry ;3; /3 Alrightyyy this chapter was waay too long when I got through writing it. It turned out to be over 4000 words XD (that is about the same length of this whole fic). So I have split the 3rd chapter in two. What this means for YOU the reader is hopefully another update soon. Yay! This chapter has a lot more dialogue as you can tell. You get a good idea of Alfred from Arthur's pov for the most part. This chapter isn't as funny as the last one, but there are A LOT of subtleties, you just have to look. I pulled a lot of jokes out of my ass for this one ha ha.

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Thank you everyone for your kind comments and for subscribing to this story! It means so much to me 3 But a special thanks to those who review, I am always ecstatic to read reviews. They make my day and I love that you guys take some of your time to let me know you enjoy the story :3

_**Next chapter teaser; the Allies reunite as they partake of a questionable**__**… meal?**_

**Please review this story and provide constructive crit. Even ideas for future chapters or guesses as to what will happen next would be loved 3 **


	4. How To Protect Your Virtue part 2

The Allies congregated around the fire, each holding make-shift bowls made of half a hallowed out coconut in their hands. For the past few nights of being stranded on the island it was France who had taken it upon himself to cook for the group. This was mostly due to the fact he would blatantly refuse to eat anyone else's cooking, but more importantly, he was the only one with enough culinary expertise to make something edible from the foreign ingredients found on the island. But seeing as the Frenchman was still unconscious the duty had to fall on someone else. China was the second best cook present, but since he had left to look for the rogue England earlier he couldn't cook either. So by process of elimination, the task fell squarely on Russia's shoulders. England looked down precariously at the questionable… **gunk** settled in his bowl. It was hard to tell what was in it from it's sheer density of the concoction and overall bad lighting. He tried moving the bowl around to get a better look at the stuff but to no avail. Instead he settled for glancing over at China and America finding it no surprise that their expressions mirrored his own.

"What is this aru?" Wang Yao enquired first, sniffing at it almost immediately scrunching his nose, "it smells disgusting".

"Food," the Russian replied simply, smiling and taking the bowl to his mouth gulping down the contents with no trouble at all.

'_As if this could be classified as food,_' Arthur frowned.

"This looks like something England would make," America commented not missing a beat.

The aforementioned nation gaped and let out a stunned, "I beg your pardon?". China laughed slapping America's arm in camaraderie, "You are right! It even smells just as bad aru yo!". China and America laughed amiably as Russia and England glared at them.

England could feel his anger boiling. How dare they insult his cooking, he'd show them… Taking the bowl to his lips he tossed his head back letting the strange, dense substance crawl down his throat; It felt a lot like slime as it went down. This action effectively silenced the two laughing nations as they stared, shell-shocked at the crazy man before them.

Arthur chugged, and chugged, making sure to consume every last drop of the vile concoction before setting the emptied bowl onto his lap as naturally as he would have with one of his beloved tea cups. The man's face remained composed, not belying the utter disgust he felt festering in the pit of my stomach as he turned to face Russia. "You are an impeccable chef Russia, that was delicious," he complimented, his expression remaining pleasant. The Russian man smiled, pleased by the Englishman's display. "Why thank you, at least someone here can appreciate good cooking, da?"

Arthur turned expectantly to regard the shocked faces of his two awestruck allies, especially that of America's. He celebrated internally, yes, this was his reward for his brave feat. `_Take that you bloody git, that's for saying my cooking was similar to this __junk__. If you are so convinced our cooking is __so__ similar I'll make it appear just as delicious as mine!_`.

"I don't know about you, but I've lost my appetite," the Big Mac-loving nation admitted whisperingly to Yao as the two watched Arthur. The latter nodded concurring silently. Neither were able to tear their eyes from the crazy Brit. Of course, Arthur was ignorant of that comment, his internal smile reaching from ear to ear.

"Would you like seconds comrade?" the Russian cut in through man's reverie, "I doubt such little food is enough to satisfy a nation of your status". England suppressed a shudder of surprise and disgust at the suggestion. He looked to Russia's face, it took all he had not to let his eyebrows draw up in disbelief. Instead he fixed on the man's conniving smile-- _**yes**_, as usual Ivan knew **exactly** what was going on in Arthur's head. His suspicions were confirmed by the hardly noticeable glimmering of his violet eyes. The man was trying to make this experience as torturous as possible. '_Fucking sadist,_' his mind snarled. Russia (heck, practically everyone) knew of Arthur's pride when it came to his cooking. That and the fact he always had to prove America wrong. It was his inherent nature and staying true to that, he would not turn this challenge down.

"It would be my pleasure," Arthur beamed confidently following the silence that dragged on a little too long. Handing his bowl back, the Russian accepted it with a pleased kolkolz (though he had to wretch it from his hands, the Brit was holding on to it so hard his knuckles were going white) and heaped huge globs into it. He didn't stop until it was filled it to the brim with the stuff before handing it back to the (uneagerly) awaiting Brit. '_For English pride!_' he reminded himself gingerly accepting the bowl, reluctant to have it back.

"Cheers," he held up his bowl in a sort of toast before bring it to his lips as his stomach set off in painful acrobatics at the contact. The Russian mimicked him barely raising his own bowl. Though he did not partake, Ivan was content to just watch his comrade with amusement shining in his eyes. England chugged, gulping this bowlful down a lot slower than he did the first time. He had a sneaking suspicion this was because his oesophagus was probably already coated with the disgusting stuff making it all go down slower. "_Mmmmm,_" Arthur sounded after he finished his lips mashing to a thin line forcing a strained smile back on his face while simultaneously fighting back the disgust by rubbing his stomach (more to sooth it's sickly rumbling than for show).

Oh god, he could still feel the food sliding down his throat.

This was absolute torture.

America and China snapped out of their trance, mouths gaping. "Wow," China said simply. "You sure have a stomach of steel Arthur!" America shouted enthusiastically reaching over to pat England's back. '_I_-_I think I'm going to be sick…_' England thought, the patting was certainly not helping. "I have underestimated you comrade England, you have excellent tastes," Russia stood and soundly slapped Arthur repeatedly on the back as that sickening sweet child-like smile crept on his face at being giving this golden opportunity to inflict even more torture on the poor island nation. Green eyes widened and shoulders tensed, '_Uuugghh--'_

That was all it took.

In the next moment, Arthur was up, pushing past the other nations, grabbing the nearest bush and emptying his stomach contents.

Dinner had long since passed and the Allies were congregated once again around the fireplace. Save for Russia and England, none else braved eating the gruel that the heavily built nation claimed to be food. _Especially_ after England's food poisoning. Though the others had missed dinner they hadn't been suffering in the slightest (not even America much to everyone's surprise). However, of the four, it was England who was feeling ill. He literally regurgitated everything he had eaten that day, and then some; every so often he would get up and dry heave out of necessity. He felt downright disgusting, worse than any hangover he had experienced in the many centuries he had lived. He was absolutely convinced Russia poisoned the meal despite the fact the man appeared to be just fine after consuming the stuff.

Sitting there as the others discussed battle tactics, Arthur felt small. His upper body remained bare, more so than earlier considering the ragged shirt he used to have draped across his shoulders was used to wipe his face after his charming display. All the heat from his body seemed to seep right out of him, he felt frail and he hated it. Instead of contributing to small talk, he sat rather slumped forward in place, arms folded across his chest tightly to distract from the hollowness in his middle while desperately trying to hold the warmth in his body. It was as if he swallowed the devil's food, which in hindsight was probably the case. He was pale and clammy and COLD, not because he was shirtless but because of his fluctuating body temperature. All his body heat seemed concentrated in his gut.

Feeling the urge to vomit again despite his stomach being empty for a while now, Arthur silently excused himself and fled to his designated heaving station. He did not notice, however, that one of his fellow allies had excused himself as well until he heard the footsteps and felt a hand rub against his back comfortingly.

"Hey… Are you okay?" the voice of his American ally inquired out of necessity, rubbing soothing circles into the Brit's back. At first Arthur tensed from the contact on his bare skin, but he was feeling so sick it melted almost instantly with the gentle ministrations. All this vomiting did a number on his energy levels as well as his strength. He found the strain of his upper body had made it to his legs, hence his need to support himself. However, he did not turn to face Alfred, he remained with his arm still bracing himself against the tree as the other patiently waited for his response still kneading in slow circles.

"…Do I look okay to you?" Arthur croaked acridly, his throat raw from exertion.

"…No," Alfred admitted almost shyly, it was a silly question to ask given the circumstance, "but you could have stopped yourself at that first bowlful you know".

Arthur couldn't help but laugh sardonically, "What can I say? It was too delicious I got greedy," a dry humorless laugh escaped him. A gust of evening wind whizzed by causing goosebumps to race up Arthur's limbs, he wrapped his arms protectively around himself. The ever oblivious American still had his hand working the smaller man's back so he felt when the other man shook beneath his fingers. This was when he conveniently remembered that he had in fact ripped Arthur's _only_ shirt earlier that day, hence why the miserable, cold man was not wearing one. Guilt panged through his system, as a hero he could not allow this injustice to go on any longer (besides, he was starting to feel bad). Arthur rubbed his arms furiously trying to bring heat to them and was surprised when Alfred removed his hand. Arthur turned around completely to see if the younger nation had left. Once he turned full circle, he heard a rustle of clothing, and felt as Alfred leaned closer and wrapped something rather heavy around his shoulders. Arthur reached out to feel the fabric. Leather, just like--

"Your bomber jacket? Why..?"

America beamed. "Well, you look like you're freezing and I _kind of_ ripped your only shirt". He shrugged before adding, "So I was thinking maybe you could hold on to that for me". Arthur could feel his face flush. He knew how important this jacket was to his former colony he was never without it, and now it was draped around his shoulders. The shorter nation turned away, avoiding eye contact, not bothering to mutter a single thank you as he sauntered quickly back to camp before his legs gave up. He heard an amused chuckle behind him and footsteps following for a bit before breaking off at some point. Arthur vaguely remembered the American say something about scoping out a place to sleep.

'_Git,_' he grumbled internally making for the campfire. When he arrived he noticed first that Ivan was gone, Yao was alone busily tending to something he had set over the fire. Dark eyes regarded him as he settled himself on one of the pieces of driftwood they had fashioned into makeshift chairs. He looked like he wanted to say something about the jacket the island nation now sported but seemed to think better of it and returned his attention to his wok.

"So, where's Russia?" England questioned uneasily, he was not up for anymore torture today.

"He went to sleep, aru".

'_Thank God,_' Arthur thought, noisily releasing a mouthful of air he wasn't aware he was holding.

The Asian nation let out a short bark of a laugh as he ladled his concoction into a bowl motioning for Arthur to take it from him. The latter paled considerably, he'd had more than enough of questionable liquids for a lifetime. A laughing smile broke out on Yao's face, "Heh, relax aru. It's not poison, it's to help your stomach, my people have been using this cure for centuries".

A look of skepticism and confusion was shot his way, "…I thought you were still bitter about the opium wars".

"I am," he replied, "I just don't want you dying off before Russia has finished torturing you". It was then Arthur realized that it was not just Russia who enjoyed watching him suffer through his own personal hell earlier that evening.

Tentatively taking the bowl out of the other nation's hand the corner of his mouth twitched in disturbance, "Y-you are too kind…".

'_I swear everyone on this island is out to kill me in some way_' Arthur deduced nursing the bowl. It wasn't poison (he was 75% sure) but it was unexpectedly tasteless and eased his aching throat as it oozed its way down.

As he waited for the antidote (or poison) to work its magic he watched the fire crackle. He realized as he stared off into space that he was fiddling with the jacket absently. His thoughts clicked into place he clamped his hand over his face wearily. '_Damn it, I let him be alone with me __**again**__, even after I swore to have at least one other person with us,_' Arthur groaned in irritation. '_Thankfully the git didn't try anything. He was actually helpful for once too. I'll just have to be more vigilant next time'_

After his short internal monologue he began to feel the curative affects of China's antidote. His stomach no longer complained and his body temperature returned to normal save for a slight chill. "I'm going to head to bed, thank you for the medicine" Arthur mentioned, pleased that it wasn't poison after all. He was exhausted both physically and mentally by the day's events and was more than ready to doze off for a decade or two. "Night aru," China said as the man retreated to where he had left his sleeping bag the night before.

He weaved quickly through the campsite towards his sleeping bag. When he got to it he noticed that his sleeping bag was not alone.

Beside it was another bag, ostentatiously decorated in red, white, and blue. Nestled peacefully inside it, whilst looking up at the stars was one particular person he did NOT want to be alone with. The other turned to him flashing a famous all-American smile, "Yo Iggy!"

"Don't, _Yo Iggy~, _me!_" _England growled, "What are you doing here? This is my spot!". "I don't see your name on it," America mused childishly rolling over, propping his arm up to rest his head atop it to get a better look at the aggravated Englishman. Arthur stomped over yanking the sleeping bag from under the unsuspecting nation before jutting a finger towards the now unoccupied spot. There in the dirt, written in elegant script were the initials A.K.

"Well what do you know?" The American responded incredulously. England smirked, the American had already pulled that line on him back in the barracks one too many times so he had taken to actually signing his name on places. It was an odd habit he had developed, but at the end of a long day at war the last thing you want to do is fight over a cot.

"Oh well!" Alfred dismissed plopping his bag back in place dropping unceremoniously onto of it, yawning and stretching his limbs out in all directions. "I'm not going anywhere I'm too tired". Arthur scowled and stood over the man.

He was too drained to get into a fist fight with him over something this silly. Heaving a sigh of resignation he mumbled, "Scoot over, you wanker". He received a toothy grin as Alfred shuffled over before looking back up at the sky folding his arms behind his head. Grumbling under his breath, Arthur eased his weary body beside the American letting out a weary sigh and closing his eyes waiting for sleep to claim him.

_Rustle, rustle, shift_.

"Hey, England?".

_Grumble_.

"…England?".

…

"Enngggllllaannnnddddd~".

'_Shut up,_' Arthur thought. There was a long moment of silence and the Englishman allowed his body to relax, '_Sweet, sweet, silence_' he thought as he felt sleep tug tantalizingly at the corners of his mind. There was a muffled rustling sound and a movement to his side but Arthur was beyond caring. Sleep was beckoning.

Alas it was not meant to be, for just as he was about to drift off, warm breath ghosted over his cheek and a low voice whispered breathily, "_**Arthur~**_". The man was instantly roused his face flushing an automatic red as he body stiffened upright scooting away from the offender who just burst out laughing.

"W-w-w-w--" Arthur stuttered unintentionally eliciting more laughter from the younger nation. Arthur fumed regaining his voice, "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!"

The American who was leaning towards him smiled that charming smile of his and answered with a simple, "Nothing."

"Just _nothing_?! I was trying to sleep, is there any good reason for you to do that?"

"I was just checking if you were still alive."

"Of course I'm still alive! Why wouldn't I be?!" snapped the raging Englishman.

America's expression turned solemn, "you weren't feeling well earlier, you were practically puking your guts out". He leaned closer '_he is getting_ _too close, too close, TOO CLOSE'._ England's mind shouted in reminder. Gently, the younger nation brushed his past mentor's bangs away to get a good look at his face.

With an uncharacteristically meek smile America continued, "But you must be feeling better since you were yelling at me, and you aren't as pale as a ghost anymore either"

Well, that certainly didn't help the Englishman stop blushing. '_He—he was actually worried? Is that why he is here..? No, I can't just let my guard down like this!'_ He shuffled farther away glaring at the young man, "Of course I'm feeling better, you dim-wit. You are slow as always I see, and what's with the worrying? It's not cute"

America's eyes dimmed and his mouth twitched briefly before letting out a short laugh and leaning away. "I wasn't worrying. Worrying is what old men like you do, I'm still a young hero!"

England groaned lying down, "go to sleep".

"I'm not tired yet though," America whined lying back as well.

"But I **am**," he growled in response.

"Then go ahead and sleep".

"Okay. Then I WILL"

A horrified look crossed England's face as soon as the words left his mouth. Of course, falling asleep first was EXACTLY what the younger nation wanted him to do. After he was asleep the sick bastard was probably planning to have his way with him. That's why he wanted him to go to sleep first! '_It's my own fault for letting my guard down around this lecherous beast. We are alone now, anything can happen I must remain vigilant!_' Arthur thought. _'I'm not going to let him have his way'_

Arthur rolled over to face the _beast_ in question putting on his best scowl and staring intently. America only smiled back painfully unaware of the situation, as usual. "You are still wearing my jacket," he noted with a grin.

Arthur started for a moment releasing he was clutching the jacket, '_damn, I was clinging onto it again'_. "Of course, it's cold, and you did rip my only shirt if you've forgotten".

"Oh I haven't _forgotten _anything," he mocked Arthur's accent on the last word waggling his eyebrows lewdly hinting about what happened earlier that day.

Caught off guard by his response Arthur's mouth gaped open, "You are **vulgar**!"

Alfred hollered clutching his stomach finding the older nations face absolutely priceless. "He heh, no but seriously I'm cold too. Come over here," he motioned opening his arms wide towards the gapping Brit.

England's face went from red-with-embarrassment to white-with-dread, "there is no bloody way I am going over there after what you pulled earlier. You could freeze for all I care!"

"Hey, you participated too!" Alfred defended.

"You pinned me to the ground," the Englishman deadpanned.

The other nation sighed wearily, "just come over here, please? I'm cold, I promise I won't do anything".

Arthur looked at him skeptically getting an eyeful of Alfred pulling off his infamous puppy eye look as he shuddered pitifully. The Brit's mind blanked feeling his face flush from nostalgia and his resolve slowly slipping away. He forcefully shoved himself into reality and reigned his thoughts back in. He always fell for that trick back when America was still his colony making the kid the spoiled adult he was now. He was not going to fall for it again. "Freeze for all I care you bleeding wanker!" he snapped rolling over to avoid those eyes to punctuate his finality.

"Too bad! I see an opening~" Alfred declared.

Before Arthur had enough time to realize what was meant he was pounced, arms encircling and pulling him flush against the American. The Englishman began struggling, trying fruitlessly to wriggle out of the ungodly vice grip on him. "Unhand me!" he squawked.

"You can't escape me Arthur!" Alfred cackled. "Besides, you are warm I don't wanna," he added with a yawn resting his chin on the shorter blonde's head.

"You and your damn strength! Let me go America or I swear I will wring your bloody neck in your sleep," Arthur threatened giving up on thrashing and settling on trying to claw at the younger man's arms towards freedom. There was a prolonged moment of silence on part of the American (save for England was now nosily trying to chew off the latter's arm) enough for England to pause.

"America?"

…

"…Alfred?"

_Snore_

England shifted to glance up to see the American's eyes which were closed. The younger nation was sleeping peacefully with his glasses comically askew on his face. The older nation shook his head letting out an exasperated sigh. He smiled fondly plucking the glasses off the other nation's face and setting them aside. There was no way he would be able to escape now, Alfred's grip didn't relent even in sleep. So England made himself as comfortable as he could given his current position before shutting his eyes.

"Good night, dolt" he muttered.

**Author's Note:** I. Am. SO SORRYYYYYYYYYYY. This took WAY too long to push out. To be honest, this chapter has mostly been finished since I posted the last one. The problem was every time I got down to writing it I had writers block or I was working on my HungaryxPrussia fic (link in my profile!) or an assignment for school of some sort. BUT, school is over now so I have no excuses from now on!

This is the funniest chapter so far and you guys actually get some fluff in here too. I know how you fangirls (and boys) like your fluff~ Sorry there was no France in this chapter, I got a lot of reviews requesting more France. I might fit him into the next chapter. To be honest, I am getting sick of writing this fic, but I do intend on finishing it. There are probably 2-3 chapters left, then I will write a separate fic to continue this from Alfred's point of view. From now on I will use just the human names to refer to the characters 'cause I found it very annoying to switch between the country and human names while reading so I apologize for that in this chapter. The next chapter will be up next week hopefully, I have no beta and I'm a perfectionist so bear with me. **Also, reviews really help with the morale**. _Hint, hint._ See ya soon!

_**Next chapter teaser; mornings can be awkward in more ways than one.**_


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